


The Surrogate Universe: Drabbles Collection

by WelshCakes68



Series: The Surrogate [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabbles, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Married Couple, Missing Scene, Modern Era, Modern Westeros, Multi, Phone Calls & Telephones, Relationship Advice, So Married, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:35:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelshCakes68/pseuds/WelshCakes68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles set within <strong>The Surrogate</strong> universe.</p><p> <em>More pairings/characters/tags to be added. Rating will likely change but the chapter name will state the relationship and rating of each individual chapter.</em></p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Note: Collection will be posted out of order but listed in sequence so please check chapter index for the latest chapter.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Margaery & Alla [G]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MTL17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MTL17/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Margaery's perspective between **What's Your Type?** and **A Less than Smooth Reaction to Newfound Attraction**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this half-written for awhile but a comment from **MTL17** gave me the kick up the arse I needed to finish.
> 
> *WC68*

Elinor was the one to speak to you if you wanted to have a rant about something and receive a show of solidarity in the form of sharp and cutting quips.

If Margaery was worried about something and needed someone to distract her from it with a laidback attitude and bawdy tale, she would call Megga.

If she wanted to talk about girls, trade tips or just have a long stream of sexual innuendo laced heavy banter, it would be Merry all the way.

Alysanne was the pragmatic one so if Margaery needed advice and a kind word, Alysanne would listen carefully and analyse before offering a well thought out and insightful response.

Alyce was a sponge for information and could reel off facts about everything, from the latest gossip in The Reach to each and every catalyst leading up to the War of the Five Kings like other’s could recite the alphabet; it was so easy to spend hours discussing nothing and everything with her.

In this scenario, she needed someone to have an open and honest conversation with, whom would offer no jokes or deflections, or allow her to do so, and give her a frank, down-the-middle opinion; she needed Alla.

 _“Hey, Marge.”_ Alla answered after only a couple of rings, the soft thud of a door sounding in the background.

“Hello Cousin.” Margaery answered slightly less enthusiastically despite her best efforts as she lay reclined on the sofa in the living room, nursing a glass of wine.

 _“Awww. What’s wrong? You’re not still miffed about the other week are you? We said we were sorry.”_ Alla beseeched down the phone.

“No. I’m not miffed, I’m…” Margaery started but then struggled to find the right word.

 _“You’re what?”_ Alla prompted, sounding like she was reclining back in her own seat in response to the serious tone of her cousin.

“Confused.” Margaery finished on a sigh, taking a deep pull from her wine glass.

 _“Confused about what?”_ Alla asked, sounding confused herself. At Margaery’s lack of reply, the younger girl took a second to think it through for herself. _“About Sansa?”_ Alla guessed and Margaery closed her eyes at the finality of actually having this discussion with someone.

“It’s just…it’s just that I’m looking at her differently. Like she’s not _my_ Sansa anymore but at the same time she still is.” Margaery stated before rushing to correct herself. “I mean she’s not! She’s not _my_ Sansa. Maybe that’s the problem…I mean the point! I mean…I don’t know what I mean.” Margaery lamented, covering her face with her hand, shaking her head at herself in annoyance.

 _“Have you talked to Sansa at all? Poor thing didn’t have a clue what was going on when we left the bar.”_ Alla asked in concern.

“No!” Margaery balked, feeling herself nearly break out in hives at the thought alone. “What would I even say? ‘Sorry! I know we’ve been friends for years and you’re uber-straight but, as you know, I’m hella gay and now find myself crushing on you big time. How fixed are you on this heterosexuality phase of yours?’” Margaery asked snidely, getting frustrated the more she vented her feelings.

 _“Well, no. I wouldn’t recommend those words **exactly**.”_ Alla refuted evenly.

“Maybe I should just bed her…that seems to get girls off of my mind fairly quickly.” Margaery joked with a mirthless laugh.

 _“Margaery, do not joke.”_ Alla chided sternly, not allowing Margaery to deflect.

“Sorry.” Margaery mumbled, contrite in the face of her cousins scolding. “It’s just…so difficult! I’ve been a complete bitch to her since we all went to Alchemy but I just can’t stop myself. We’re supposed to be going out together tonight for my art social and I’m worried what I’ll say to her once I’ve had a drink.”

 _“Well, you need to reign yourself in because that’s totally unfair and she doesn’t deserve it.”_ Alla stated firmly.

“I know that! That’s what I just said! I can’t help myself!” Margaery shrieked, patience having snapped completely now.

 _“Don’t start on me, Margaery Tyrell! Do you want someone to talk to or not?”_ Alla asked sternly with a no nonsense tone. Margaery let out an uncommited grunt in reply. _“Right. Well, firstly, you **can** help yourself and you **will**. Maybe you should…broach it with her.”_ Alla suggested cautiously.

“Sansa’s straight as an arrow. There’s nothing to ‘broach’.” Margaery argued back, sounding almost disappointed which annoyed her even more.

 _“Well…”_ Alla trailed off somewhat awkwardly, clearly uncertain of what exactly she could say to that, _“…it is what it is. If you’re finding yourself **so** stressed that you’re snapping at her like that then you **need** to talk to her. It doesn’t have to be to…suggest anything but even if you let her know so that you can laugh about it together and break the tension, that can be enough for now.”_

Margaery was quiet for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and think about what her friend had said. “I’m finding it hard to laugh about right now.” Margaery replied quietly and, horribly, felt her throat tighten, making it a struggle to get her words out.

 _“I know.”_ Alla replied despondently, empathy thick in her voice. _“But you can’t stay as you are at the moment. It sounds like your friendship will struggle to handle things as they are so something’s got to give.”_ Alla offered wisely.

Margaery nodded, finishing the contents off her glass with an edge of finality to the action. “I know you’re right.” Margaery nodded with resigned acceptance.

 _“Awwww! Mags! You sound so sad. I wish I could be there to give you a cousin-cuddle.”_ Alla whined down the phone, sounding pained at the physical distance that separated them.

“I know, Alla.” Margaery smiled sadly down the phone. Margaery could hear some noises through the front door and knew that Sansa was coming home from school. Not feeling in the mood to speak to or even look at Sansa when her feelings were so raw and close to the surface, she jumped up quickly, grabbing the bottle of wine as she went and fled to her room. “Look, I’ve got to go and get ready for tonight…and get my game face on. Thanks for talking me down, Cuz.”

 _“Sometimes I think it was what I was bred for.”_ Alla joked drily down the phone. _“Love you!”_

“Yeah, I love you too.” Margaery smiled down the phone as she closed the door to her bedroom just as she heard Sansa enter. “Bye!”

_“Bye.”_

Margaery threw her phone down on the bed and took a large swig of wine directly from the bottle, something that she’d always deemed as ‘sacrilegious’ before now as she tried to mentally prepare herself for the evening to come with her ridiculously appealing flatmate. _‘Right, Margaery. You can do this.’_ She coached herself seriously, only half-doubting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'straight as an arrow' line is from **MTL17** provided with a potential followup so credit to them.
> 
> *WC68*


	2. Sansa/Margaery (I) [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in the six month gap between Chapter Six and Chapter Seven of **The Surrogate** , during Dany and Jon's wedding.
> 
> *WC68*

Sansa was sat at one of the few tables in the vast room with Jory, Sam and Gilly, fork poised over her plate as she half-listened to Sam talk about the War of the Ninepenny Kings and the integral role that Ser Barristan Selmy played in it when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

She turned to her left, curious, when she felt a presence to her right and heard the scrape of china on wood.

“Hey!” Sansa spun quickly, hair swinging madly at the rapid movement. When she came to a stop her wife was sat next to her with a wide, faux-innocent smile plastered across her beautiful face, a smile which held in place a silver fork buried in her mouth with Sansa’s plate sat in front of her, the slice of wedding cake that it had been carrying now with a significant chunk missing. “Go get your own dessert!” Sansa groused with a crease in her brow, peeved, as she pulled the dish back towards herself possessively.

“I don’t need to. ‘What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine’. Remember?” Margaery questioned, leaning upwards to plant a soft kiss on Sansa’s temple.

“I’m sure there’s a specific by-law in that vow that excludes confectionery.” Sansa argued drily, refusing to be swayed by her wife’s lips and the merry atmosphere of the room.

“You find me the paperwork that says that and I will gladly reimburse you.” Margaery conceded, sliding her chair closer to the redhead and throwing a casual arm over her shoulders. “You know, from our joint account.” Margaery finished with a smirk before leaning in quickly to plant a series of rapid-fire kisses on Sansa’s lips to combat the pout on her wife’s face; the taste of the icing on her smile was what made Sansa finally relent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked? This has been written in my **The Surrogate** document for ages but I had the urge to polish and post it today.
> 
> *WC68*


End file.
